


Shiver

by HalewynsLady



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angella is having fun, Angella is the most precious character and I will let no wrong befall her, Angella taking a leaf from her daughter's book by smuggling in an enemy-girlfriend, Enemies With Benefits, F/F, Fluff, FtLoSW, I just realised her powers flow from the gem in her mask and she is not wearing the mask, I love cute kitten catra, I should stop, I wanted to try my hand at full powered shadow weaver, It is completely plausible the Horde took so long to attack Bright Moon bc Shadow Weaver has a crush, Just trying something very different from cannot weave, Looks like poly Angella-Micah, NO rape, One Night Stand, Shadow Weaver putting Black Garnet magic to good use, Shadow Weaver quickly getting attached again, She is probably taking some moonstone energy from Angella too, Shiver sensation of the season as old horror movie posters say, Smut, The one night event that made Shadow Weaver warn Adora against distraction, air sex, bc I am rebellious like that, can we please pretend she is holding the shard in her hand or shadow or somehow, can we pretend she is holding the shard in her hand or shadows, demon magic sex? spellcasting is good for anything, for easy posting, guess which is which :p, hey shadow weaver can you try not being that hopelessly in love with her for once?, masked ball meet, masked ball story ironically starring unmasked sw for most of it, me here at ease on the bed, no hungry vaginal demon portal either only slightly only the demons that are already there anyway, no labia dentata putting this tag here but just so you know, okay I am splitting the smut chapter into three parts and the final chapter too, one overdisplays her powers to impress, one wisely hides them more to the background, putting that canon pocket in her dress to good use, recent mother Shadow Weaver, send in the demons?, shadow sex?, so her connection to the black garnet is lost, soft shadow weaver is a show off like any Shadow Weaver, sw being full of herself, sw respecting personal space... just kidding she's probably allergic to that, sw taps into black garnet to intimidate to love to express happiness for anything really, tags are a danger, the Whispering Woods are the Bermuda triangle of Etheria, what am i writing?, you in mid air, young queen Angella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:33:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24422083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalewynsLady/pseuds/HalewynsLady
Summary: Queen Angella picks up a woman at her masked ball.Shadow Weaver picks up a woman on her mission to Bright Moon, where there happens to be a masked ball.Fluffiness for fluff's sake.
Relationships: Angella/Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)
Comments: 75
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A deviant story to 'I cannot weave'. This exists because of you.
> 
> My hand went ahead and wrote you a masked ball meet au. -Since 'I cannot weave' will harken back to their Mystacor pasts, I thought up something new just for this story. I am as powerless again masked story baiting as you. -  
> My own verdict: not enough masquerade. 
> 
> Story further inspired and fed by:
> 
> Ezbreezy's comment on chapter 38:  
> "imagine if Angella were to for some reason shed a feather in the room Shadow Weaver would hide it away in her robes."
> 
> Animator's comment on chapter 25:  
> "The Bright Moon queen, someone she had only every corresponded with through impersonal war messages’ and they were penpals (oh my god they were penpals)"
> 
> And this wonderful art by constantly-changing:  
> https://consistantly-changing.tumblr.com/post/619192898807857152/she-will-fly-higher-than-before-i-will
> 
> I dedicate this to all cats who can meow human words. Beautiful and scary. 
> 
> Shadow Weaver will be calling babies 'it' in thought, this is not meant in a mean way, it is there mainly to show what a disconnected mess she is.

Testing... Text will appear here shortly.

Tada: 

She had sent several letter in advance.  
Each had been crystal clear, in her opinion, in its phrasing of the intent of the Horde (conquering all, by force) and stating what was the heart of their pursuits within Etheria (relinquish your power stones, food, soldiers and children and send them to the Fright Zone to strengthen our numbers).  
Each letter had comprised a succinct paragraph, for the dim-witted and fool-hearted, which summed up the limited possibilities at hand for the so-called, hardly-there Rebellion limited and the upsides to their infinitely more benefecial and inevatable surrender. 

She was getting tired of sending these.  
It was a waste of magic.  
The Whispering Woods interfered with both technological messages and magical ones. It either did not allow the images to appear or they travelled so poorly that their content was beyond recognition when it did arrive.  
The Horde, she, had sent out soldiers too, as messengers, the old-fashioned way. Those had not returned. When they did, they would be properly sanctioned and punished.

She set her teeth in a dark red skinned plum, a neon bright red on the inside.  
The spoils of war.  
Her shadows licked up the juices that escaped down her fingers.

She confiscated these when a troop returned from a recent raid. This batch of Horde soldiers had taken a merchant's cart of fruit with them, not recognising the objects and thinking it was precious soft stones.  
Shadow Weaver had nearly congratulated them on the find. She passed the load off as, indeed, gems that were magically useful to her and horded them as a secret bedroom stash.

She sometimes cladestinely stole out, meaning her shadows did, to fetch herself some fruits, picking them from their very trees. Shadows were very clever with bramble bushes.  
Ration bars were not her style. Besides, too many of those in her system muddled the quality of her spell casting, or so she claimed.  
Once, she had tried keeping a young apple tree in a pot in her room.  
It had not taken to the coppery water, sulphurous air and light-deprived environment of the Fright Zone. It had not borne her a single fruit.  
She next decided to nurture it through her dark magic. Thinking the plant could at worst become something dark and lecherous. At her touch of power, it promptly reduced itself itself to dust. 

She had warned them, repeatedly, no reply.  
She would have to reach out to Bright Moon in a more convincing manner.  
There had been correspondence between them before. Debates over pieces of land, rights of the people,... which the Horde then disregarded.  
The castle had stopped sending letters.  
Possibly because they were of no use against the Horde's attacks.  
Or their royal court did not like to maintain correspondence.  
These past months many of Shadow Weaver's letters, in black ink, signed "the Horde, Lord Hordak" went out, went unanswered.  
This told her that Bright Moon did not take the treath seriously and would rather continue their inane parties of field twirling and tree hugging.  
Their loss.

She spread the papers out before her. An elegant handwriting, a dark pink ink. These few letters had come through in the end. They were signed undoubtedly by some official bureaucrat who claimed to be "the Queen of Bright Moon".  
It was a short, firm appeal to "Refrain from sending treaths and demands. Only contact us if you are seeking genuine contact, as per example are attempting to put up a sincere peace treaty and can present food of thought for an actual, intelligent, life-revering conversation."  
And damn her if she hadn't tried to write her latest requests for immediate surrender in a more amiable tone.  
Still there was no reply on the horizon.  
Someone had seen through her clever phrasings.

Her child cried for attention. A part of her reached for it on instinct, cradling it, cooing over it, even as she sat reading, her mind on other matters. Her shadows carried it over to her arms.  
She should not raise it, cuddled. She could not let it grow up to be blinded by its own desires.

She held Adora, the infant, as to inspect her paperwork. It began to play with her hair, the strands closest to her face.  
Adora looked up happily to her face. She was not yet of an age to question the alternating two faces. Once she did, Shadow Weaver could not keep her around with her face uncovered anymore.

Shadow Weaver loved the little thing. She gave it the plum-pit to hold, precious as a powerstone in the child's hands. 

The cat scratched outside the door. Meowing "hello", it was quicker with words than her fair haired wonder child. 

She, her shadows, leapt under the door and pushed it away from room. It would soon be back. At least, when she put these two together, her Adora and the cat, they were quiet and happy. There were times when she really needed the quiet. 

"Those rebels won't take a hint, my pet, the Horde will be forced to act. Remember this, for when these will be your decisions to make. I will have to make good on my promise to present them with a personal visit and pressure them into doing the right thing... for the Horde." 

She kissed Adora's soft cranium.  
It tried to hug her face.

"Shhh...e...ve" spoke Adora.

The little thing was quickly becoming everything to her.


	2. Chapter 2

The day she set out, it was the wrong day to go to Bright Moon.

Shadow Weaver manifested herself at the edge of the Whispering Woods.  
To travel there was not difficult for her.  
She did not bother with the added trouble of taking soldiers with her. She did not need that kind of assurance. It would only be a great drain on her magic to transport them. Her journey was facilitated by not taking anyone with her. 

The castle of Bright Moon, at a distance, looked unprotected. Even after years of war with the far-off Horde, Bright Moon had not taken any extra measures to guard this place.  
The castle looked idyllic. 

She could, technically, if she felt inclined, take this place by herself.  
There was only the Moonstone and its princess to consider an incalcubable force.  
However, such a project would very much be her private undertaking. It would be her reputation alone at stake. Disgraced and ruined if the take-over went wrong.  
If Bright Moon was conquered, she would have to send prisoners to the Horde herself, at the expense of her own powers.  
The Horde could not easily send troops to keep Bright Moon occupied and loyal.  
There was only the dream of taking a castle for her own...

Bright Moon was simply fortunate with its location.  
These woods were a source of power yet to be harnessed. The Woods, Bright Moon, and beyond its gates, the Moon stone. 

Something was off. There were too many flightful accents of lights and colours on and about the castle. There was a celebration. Was Bright Moon always like this?  
People were taking languished walks outside. They wore cheerful colours. Shadow Weaver could not make out the faces from this distance. Some looked like they were put head-first into a paint bucket, some heads were draped in shadows, veils, masks, judging by their stilness. Yes, there, one fell off and a man comically ran after it trying to catch the mask sliding downhill. 

Shadow Weaver could walk right in, unnoticed.

Her gaze was drawn to one, a simple pink-mauve dress, Shadow Weaver admitted, for sentiments sake. Worn by a slim figure which stood close by the castle, then flew out of sight, in a flash gone.

She considered her approach. She observed the Bright Moon speciments, half-lame strolling zombies, outside. The casualties of a party and alcohol. 

The woods rustled most vehemently behind her.

There was something wretching its heart out.

Shadow Weaver doubted monsters would dare dwell this close to the castle, and she was right. It was definitely not a monster.  
The plain pink dress, worn by a lady of a humanoid stature, who suddenly bent forward, doubled over. She saw her continue to wretch.

The wings batted in a hard flurry around the person.  
Shadow Weaver ghosted up in shadowy swirls behind her, she placed her hand between the shoulders. Shadow Weaver caressed the back of the exposed neck, calming the creature's wings. She gathered tresses of her hair, holding it, the bright fabled colour of sunrise hair in her hand.  
As the person continued to spill their guts out on the forest floor.

The girl vomited. Miserably. This amused Shadow Weaver, or else she would not have cared to approach. 

"Allow me?"  
She stroked her neck again, her hair, as if to keep it from escaping, there was no danger.

When the woman turned at last from being sick,  
Shadow Weaver looked into a mask.

It was white, with antlers, most fine and curly shaped.  
The mouth visible beneath the mask smiled at her.  
Then the girl shielded her mouth with her hand. A young mouth, a young hand.  
An otherwordly picture.

Shadow Weaver felt her knees weaken. Her shadows drew her up taller, much taller than the girl.  
The woman in question looked oddly at her for being this tall.  
Appearing this tall.  
The pink lady did not know this person, this was the first, the only one at the whole ball she could not place. 

"I fled the ball." the young woman admitted, watching Shadow Weaver's hair and darkness, shadows swirling. Soothingly, mesmerisingly, vertiginously.  
"I saw."  
The woman quickly turned, then threw up again.

Sickening the local courtiers on sight, check.

Shadow Weaver bent over her. She did not let go of the woman's hair, keeping it away from her face, her shadows tasting around her hand, sampling the neck, wound themselves around her throat like a loose scarf, barely felt by her victim.

"Aren't you a bit young for...whatever this is?"  
"A royal ball.  
And no."

The young woman drew herself up, her smile gone, her mask, only eyes of a matt purple.

She took in the boldness of the other's outfit, it was an inauspicious look. Black and red, Horde-like.  
Neverthelesss, she took the helpful woman's hand from her neck and held it seemingly in gratitude.

Shadow Weaver's heart skidded at the sight and slight touch. 

"I don't like champagne. I do like champagne, but this always happens." The winged woman confided as to a friend.

"These masked balls... look very pretty but they are loud and you can't talk sufficiently with people or with whom you want to talk with.... You should have been here for the coronation a few weeks ago. That was also a masked event."

"If it was masked, how do you know I wasn't?"  
Her pinkness gave her a flat look, deadpanned, all-knowing, as if she would have rolled her eyes, if only that were lady-like. 

"I know everyone here. Masquerades are useless. I don't see the appeal. It only creates extra complications where none are needed and not even real complications because everyone stays easily recogisable. There is no use, but tradition.  
To most attending, this fest does not even serve any purpose, except for the beauty of the continued tradition, but most are oblivious to that anyway. There has been a masked party on this day for hundreds of years, grace our ancestors, but it has lost all meaning. It just feels... the court takes it for just another coronation afterparty."

"I am not here for the celebration. I am here on business."  
"Just as well." the young lady replied.


	3. Chapter 3

"Just as well."  
Angella would rather focus on the war than attend a ball. It was a better, infinitely more useful of spending her time. She'd rather there was no war.

Her guest was dissimilar to her and this fascinated her.   
Her guest was dissimilar to her very self too. A Horde soldier, dark and crude to look at, but refined and kind. So far. Could be a trap. This would not surprise her.  
Yet Angella could not help feeling a sense of elation when being around her.  
When the red lady was caressing her hair,  
she wished for nothing more than to have her use that honeyed voice on her, almost as a weapon, and be strung from her fingertips.

Shadow Weaver drew a small circle spell, that went unnoticed, behind Angella's ear to have her hair pinned up to the back to avoid more hairholding trouble for the rest of the evening.   
"I am a representative from the Horde. I am here to discuss the terms of your surrender."  
"Oh, your letters hinted at", blood-drippingly threatened with, "a personal visit."  
"This would be the day."  
"Can you imagine more awful timing?" The queen smiled. "You'll want to speak with the people in charge then." She hesitated. "The queen has gone missing."  
"Missing?"  
"From the ball. Inside, I suppose everyone is looking for her. I know everything about the I am well aware of everything going on... " Angella took a breathe, and begun again, sounding more self-assured. "I know everything about the negotiations. You can could deliver your message to me."  
"You have access to...?  
"I...work at the castle."  
"I am here to discuss your surrender. It is not a message to be handed down from maid to cook to the queen's dinner companion."  
"There will be no surrender." Her voice went frigidly stern and authoritative. "But we can discuss anything you like. Any suggestions you make will be considered at court. You may rely on this."  
"You have such jurisdiction?" Shadow Weaver narrowed her eyes in disbelieve.   
"Or we could call if off, for today. I hope your superiors understand the overpowering, uncontrollable inconvenience of a masked ball standing in your pretty-masked way.  
"Call the ball off. Your kingdom is under threat."  
"By you?" she whispered sweetly. "Anyway. I can't." The young woman smirked. "This ball is a sacred tradition."

Was this girl the queen?   
Shadow Weaver had hoped not, but it was getting more and more likely.   
She wanted to have this one to enjoy for the night. She could do that still, at once, no problem. There was nothing here to keep her from wrapping her up, queen or not. Kidnap her perhaps. 

"Let there be a truce between us for this night. For discussions, informal. It will give me something to do beyond this ball, something more delicate."  
"No official representative of Bright Moon would dare spend this sort of time with the enemy."  
Backing out already? "Truce." Angella repeated.   
"Truce." With the girl who fled from the castle to throw up, she had come far in a few powerful wing beats.   
The queen was so nearby her shadows kept caressing her feathers.  
Truce, Shadow Weaver agreed.  
"For the wedding."  
"Wedding?"  
"The one ball I'll have to properly attend soon. The queen is getting married."  
Shadow Weaver cradled Angella's face, moving it that much closer to her own. "I shall inform Lord Hordak to strike while you are vulnerable."  
"Please don't!" Angella grasped Shadow Weaver's wrist.  
"Then you should feed me such precious morsels of knowledge." Shadow Weaver said, incredibly amused.  
"No, you are right. We are not used to having officials over and I am glad you are here. I'd prefer to think out a peaceful solution." Angella held her lips so close they touched the mask with the sentence and halted before it. 

She extracted herself from the embrace.  
"I just need some water." Angella said, walking over to the creek to kneel by it and drink.   
She swayed on her feet.  
Shadow Weaver steadied her. "Stay here. I'll get you your water."  
The sorceress hovered to the stream. She drew a small circle over its surface and one just above the palm of her held-out hand.   
Cleansed water fell from the second circle. She held both hands together, to catch it, shielding her hands with her body so the young woman would not see her powers. She filtered all her drinking water in the Frightzone with this spell too.   
Shadow Weaver walked over to Angella, holding the water tight in her hands, careful not to spill. She placed her fingertips to the lady's lips. Angella drank from them.  
Feeling the soft flesh, the short hard nails that were a bother to cut. Shadow Weaver had considered giving up on keeping them short all together. 

"Thank you.", the queen spoke. She recovered swiftly from her lapse. Her healing brought back the colour on her cheeks, her eyes sparkled. Perhaps this quick healing was typical of her kind.  
Shadow Weaver wiped and rested her wet hands on her lap.  
The lady was powerful. She felt... special. Powers radiated from her. It could all be stored in the wings. This could just be how her winged species were.  
Shadow Weaver leaned over to her.   
She was sitting beside her, aching for another touch, a kiss.

The bright light of this place was getting more in Shadow Weaver's head than champagne ever could. 

"Thank you for honouring our day of celebration. It is most considerate of you, as our enemy, to join in our masked event. But this mask must be very heavy..."  
Just like that, like it meant nothing,  
Angella raised her arm and took the woman's mask off.   
Her mouth fell open at the sight of her features. Gorgeous. And scars.   
"Look," Angella said, kindly, " you are wearing another mask." So smiled the queen and sat closer against her. She traced the scarred cheek and kissed Shadow Weaver's half open lips.

"That must taste awful." Angella spoke.   
Shadow Weaver brought her face close and kisses her again.

Angella must have been more light-headed than she knew because her world tilted, to darkness, the sensation of a room tipping over.   
A dark warmth was sitting on her. The woman was tugging her hair, but Angella felt her arms and hands around her waist, too, she was certain of that.  
Intense green, split eyes took her in.   
"What are you?" Angella asked, softly, it did not matter. It did not require an answer. It was merely a formality to ask. A creature of the Horde, a dark ghost?  
Angella grabbed at her, kissed her.  
Over and over.  
"Maybe we should skip the ball alltogether?" Angella remarked cleverly.  
The woman slid off her lap, to the side of her as if they had never parted before in their lives.  
"And have our own masked ball in the woods?"  
Enveloped by the no longer masked Shadow Weaver ignoring the ball would become easy.  
Angella held her, Shadow Weaver's leg remained curled over her lap. Angella looked down on that face. There was a smoothness, a friendliness to her strange companion. Exactly like a trap. Their hands in each other's hair. A Horde soldier come to pick up a girl from a Bright Moon party, just because she knew she could. 

Angella started pulling at the dark robes, hoisting them up to have Shadow Weaver stand. She held her hands at her hips.  
"What are you trying to do here?"  
"Remove the top layer. It is just red under there isn't it? Your dress? That way it won't stick out as much. Red is still a daring colour in these times, but it won't scream "Horde" as loudly anymore. I mean, you'll still stand out. It will look like I am smuggling in the very Red Death but..." Her bright girl looked mischievous.  
"You? Smuggling in a Horde soldier?"  
"You're not a real soldier, though, are you? Really? You are just a correspondance official. A negotiator. You offer no actual threat but words. You are here on peace terms. Which means...   
I can talk with you for the good of the realm, while I can pass... on the ball."  
"A correspondance official..."  
"As am I." Angella quickly retorted and laughed when Shadow Weaver lifted an uncaring eyebrow.  
There was only one Shadow Weaver knew of who was fabled to have wings like these. Only one such winged woman. Even if Bright Moon had acquired more angels, ... Maybe she was family to the queen? Did Angella think she would not know who she was?  
"Allright then." 

They walked from the shelter of the woods.  
Shadow Weaver had not felt light directly on her face since longer than she cared to imagine. She had not seen her own face in midday moonlight before, she tried not to be wonder what it looked like.  
"You will need a mask."  
"I háve a mask."  
"An angry mask. It will scare people off, they will not take it in gratitude."  
"I don't care what they..." she started coldly. But Angella was already extracting something from her dress.  
The queen wavered, a moment, she usually thought things over better than this. It was an emergency, a dreaded boring social event and this woman had helped her. That made her trustworthy? No, but she could get somewhere on establishing bonds with the Frightzone, a step closer to understanding.   
The woman's grey hand paced itself upon hers and the cloth.  
Angella looked up at her and smiled.  
She waved the cloth open. "That is really unsettling you know."  
"What is?"  
"Your height keeps changing. Whenever I look at you. I never know where to expect your eyes to be."  
"You'll get used to it."  
"It is dizzying."  
"Can I have my mask back?" Angella carried the mask. She had it bundled up with a layer of Shadow Weaver's clothes.  
"Yes," Angella gave in, handed the mask over. "but don't put it back on yet."   
Shadow Weaver held it in her hand as they walked. The castle still seemed a world away.

"You don't mind a veil?"  
"No."  
Angella reached up to arrange the fine white cloth over Shadow Weaver's head. She was rising up too high. Her attempts were futile. She stood on tiptoes, unfurled her wings to give herself the tiniest push into the air.  
"Now you're just playing with me."  
"Yes," Shadow Weaver smiled from beneath the veil and lowered her form again, until she was only slightly taller than the queen, it still felt like a lie somehow.  
"How do I attach this to your hair?" The hair kept floating up and about, making the veil slide down.  
"Like this." Shadow Weaver spoke, leaning over, shadow tendrils curled in her hair and gripped the fringes of the fabric to hold it in place. Her hair kept freely floating, flying beyond that, even the parts underneath the veil.  
Meanwhile shadows emerged from her fingers to pet Angella's own hair. Entangling fleetingly.

"That looks ...very pretty;"  
The veiled face swept closer and kissed her softly on the lips.  
"Why do you have a veil on you? Were you already planning a secret meet-up? Were you running away?" As some romantic, desperate maiden, not that she seemed the type. She was not carrying any flowers, for one.  
"It is my spare. That is why I am carrying it around with me. Nót to pick up unknown messenger girls for the ball."  
"I am almost disappointed."  
"No, you are not.  
The mask I am wearing now is very obviously beautfiul but the antlers are fragile."  
Angella watched the red and black bundle of cloth against her dress. She had not wanted much fuss over her own dress. She had deliberately chosen one that looked rather plain.   
Though not as plain as Shadow Weaver thought as first, wood-shadow-cast glance. In the light the dress shifted between white and pink.  
Shadow Weaver grew curious about her own face afterall.  
"Does the veil cover enough?"  
"Yes." Angella assured her, breathlessly. "I can hardly see your face."  
Shadow Weaver held her mask close.  
Angella hoped she would keep it off a while longer. She was so beautiful. 

"Come," Angella spoke, linking their hands together.   
She started walking faster towards the castle. "let's get you something to drink."

\-----  
Angella: brought a girlfriend home. :3  
That is... Scary Horde Lady.  
Some princesses take evil sorceresses home to cope.


	4. Chapter 4

The winged girl entered the palace first.  
They navigated through a flutter of shiny people.  
The event was not as loud or as busy as Angella had made it out to be. Maybe Angella just did not know the crowded mess that Horde soldiers made. 

The people here maintained a pleasant distance. The halls were built to be spaceous, creating quite a delectable atmosphere steeped in soothing pale blues and purples enlaced in stylised rich golds. 

People did not notice her, nor openly recognised her for being Horde. On Angella's arm she was assumed to be some princess rebellion friend.  
Many greeted Angella.  
The unqueenly girl ignored those who bowed to her and called her princess out of habit or queen, making themselves accustumed to the new habit. Still she appeared gracious and respectful to all, just more focused on enjoying the ball together with her friend. 

Shadow Weaver found she paused when they approached the throne room.  
She was subduing her shadows, floating more demurely than usual.  
Angella cast her a benevolent glance. Her eyes lingered on her moving hair. Angella gestured with her hand as to pluck something from Shadow Weaver's hair. It was a caress in disguise.  
There was not even a breeze of wind in here, what made those black locks move like that?  
Shadow Weaver watched her, unsure of how much of her face showed through the veil.  
The shine of her eyes, the muffled lines of her gorgeous face structure.  
Angella smiled to herself, happy with her.

"The conference room is... occupied by celebrations and giggling." Angella said, unhappy with the heist. She took her red shade with her. "so we'll have to conduct our discussion in my chambers."  
She pressed a kiss on the veil again. "I'll be right back. I am getting us some sustenance."

Angella dove into the throne room, the main ball room.  
There was a glass of champagne in her hand soon enough, the staff was overly wiling to give her drinks. She carried the full glass around with her. It did look good on her. The delicate hue of champagne suited her colour scheme.

Angella smiled at her from the other side of the room and winked.  
She relieved a servant from his tray of appetizers and looked over to Shadow Weaver again.  
She thought back on her recent coronation. How lonely, bored and examplary she had been. Perfectly schooled, impeccably polite. The hope for a future others still thought to be bright if she, Micah, the princesses stepped up as heroes. Her own hopes were bleaker.  
She imagined then being now and looking out over her people, not expecting anyone special and seeing her from across the room.  
It would have been only proper for her to attend. Every area sent someone. The Fright zone should not be exempt.  
She thought on the land the Fright zone used to be, the losses, the people, the unsolved questions.  
The Fright zone should have sent a princess and it should have been her. 

"We can go back later," Angella said as she opened the door and let Shadow Weaver into her room. "I like parties best when they are nearing the end. When people are dancing without being pretentious about it anymore, when they have reverted back to being shy and honest, and the music is softer and a puppeteer appears for the kiddies who can't sleep and tells a story, that is usually around eleven. We can watch it from behind our masks, sleepy and happy, in kinship." She looked at Shadow Weaver. Would that be the kind of thing this woman enjoyed? She continued:" I found an assortment of fruits and beverages, wines mainly."  
Shadow Weaver accepted the tray from her hands to place it on the table. She took it on her own accord but made it look like a favour. Angella cleared the table from jewellery trinkets and pink ink vials, not taking her eyes off her companion.  
Shadow Weaver's gesture had been executed slowly, a deliberate, performative movement, displaying herself more than the food, but it was no less appealing because of her self-awareness.  
"Oh no." Angella lamented in realisation at the pang she felt when she looked at her.  
Shadow Weaver leaned back beside the table.  
Angella could tell from her bodylanguage, if not her face, that she was amused.  
"Oh no?" she asked. "What is it?"  
"We are here to discuss politics..." She was starting to think the Horde soldier liked her. "Would you, we could, do something else." The queen suggested, as if they could take a shared day off. The Horde does not grant days off. All the more reason for Shadow Weaver to take this opportunity.  
"I see." A tendril caressed Angella's face, stroked her hair back, leapt over her dress and pulled her close.  
Angella lifted Shadow Weaver's veil, revealing her face as far as the nose and they kisses with teethy smiles.  
Shadow Weaver's coiling hair released the veil. It dropped to the floor.  
Her darkness, that she had been holding down, lashed out with renewed energy.  
"There is no rule," Angella gasped. "on not fucking the messenger, is there? There is one on not kiling them."  
"Well, you wouldn't." Shadow Weaver replied.  
"Sleep with you?"  
"Yes. A Bright Moon flower like yourself. Too pure for this world..."  
Angella practically ripped Shadow Weaver's clothes off at this. But the fabric proved stronger than her hands. Her vibrant kisses became even more enthused, the more Shadow Weaver flattered her.


	5. Chapter 5

Beware, here there be smut.  
\----------

Angella unhooked the skirt to her dress. Shadow Weaver noticed how flimsy the fabric was, a pink gleaming gauze draped upon her bodice to wave down her legs.   
"One night lasting peace treaty," Angella said, "go on. Sign it." as if Shadow Weaver needed the encouragement.  
Shadow Weaver's hand traversed over Angella's thigh, over what she had taken for mauve leggings, but was in fact her bare skin. She looked up at Angella, revelled her now-still-gentle intake of breath when a tendril of darkness spread over her skin. Shadow Weaver drew her fingers up, through her own darkness, her shadows curled under the pale, soft cloth of the queen's bodice and dipped in. 

They lapped at her, permeating her body as a liquid would.  
Shadow Weaver noticed the subtle change in queen Angella's, masked, face as the woman's desire grew heavy with nestling shadows.   
Shadow Weaver's fingers kept sliding leasurely through the molten darkness. Pulling it back, spreading it further, taking something from Angella, feeding.   
Something beyond the gentle fingers was also drawing in and out of her, never quite retreating. Shadow Weaver was urging it on with smooth carasses. It held her, enveloped her, inside and out. It was not a sucking sensation, it was... she was... drinking her, only not with her mouth.   
"You taste of your runestone." Shadow Weaver's wavering voice commented.   
She pulled... something, Angella could not help opening her legs further to her, already needily displaying her thighs.  
"Show me what you are doing." Angella said, sounding surprisingly in control of herself for one lost enough to start impatiently moving her hips to fuck herself on Shadow Weaver's fingers. More than her fingers.  
"Show me your hand. "  
"While you are giving in so prettily?" Angella rolled her hips harder, fervently pushing against Shadow Weaver's hand.   
"Now." an imperious tone.  
"Or the deal is off."  
Shadow Weaver set her thumb in the vicinity of her clit as if to stop her, or at least to pretend to refrain the queen from continue moving into her. She waxed its surface. Most unhelpfully. The queen struggled to hold herself from the brink.  
Shadow Weaver waited for the queen to gradually slow down her body's movements.   
The shadows faded from around her.  
Shadow Weaver smirked. "Will you be breaking our peace agreement so soon, my angel?   
I should have known you would." 

The queen held onto her, stabilizing herself. She tried not to whimper "nooo" when Shadow Weaver started extracting herself from her.   
"Look, these are my powers."  
Shadow Weaver's hand was leaving wet shadow trails on her thigh. Angella looked down, she saw the darkness crawling up rapidly. Shadow Weaver raised her hand, cutting their desired tracks off.   
"What are they?" Angella tried to sound authorative.  
Fears and shadows and unknown arcane forces, Shadow Weaver reflected. Why tell her?  
Her wet fingers touched Angella's lips, the darkness lingered in ribbons about her fingers.   
Don't kiss those fingers.  
Angella had seen weirder powers than this, for example the power of creating nets out of nowhere.  
"These... only want what I want."   
Some spirit manifestation of the self? Angella wondered.  
"How" Angella swallowed. "do you get them to ..."  
"They are me." Shadow Weaver spoke to Angella's lips, breaking her off, kissing her again. She wrapped her hand up in Angella's hair.  
"Is it me you want?" a dare, a vicious snare.  
Expecting her to back out. Expecting her to rise up to the challenge despite knowing better.   
Angella wanted neither of those.   
She answered matter-of-factly:   
"I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't. But it is gracious of you to doublecheck."  
Shadow Weaver trailed her nails down over the queen's neck. "You seem used to getting what you want."   
"So do you."  
Angella had pulled up her shoulders, defensively, as in anger, it looked so cute.   
Shadow Weaver drew her nails over a shoulder.  
Angella was not used to being that far gone, so soon, and had not yet made up her mind on whether she liked it or not.  
And just as Shadow Weaver was about to spell out to the young lady how this was going to happen, she noticed her gaze on her, the eyes, so close to loving, so very deceiving, unsettling. 

"I'll remember to be careful, with you." Shadow Weaver promised. "I will be soft." She meant it too.

"How far can you, these shadows, reach?" Angella asked, to know what she was up against.   
Shadow Weaver breathed to her: "Through your entire body, I can sense every cell of your existence, hold your spine, your thoughts, I can alter your mind, if you are open to it," and if not, but let's not dwell on that. "I can change your sensations, your memories." I can break your spirit.  
She was painting the picture quite vividly, from experience.  
"In what world... is that a seductive thing to say?" Angella looked at her. Not getting much back, she felt she had to clarify. "Don't do that."

Shadow Weaver twirled two fingers before Angella's eyes, holding a glowing circle at their tips. "I was planning on this too."  
Angella nodded, apparenty already familiar with that particular trick.   
BrightMoon and Mystacor had always been close.   
"Have I been sufficiently cautioned? Now may I proceed?"  
"By all means."  
All of them, wouldn't that be something?   
Angella cast her arms around her and kissed her again, lovingly, so very easy to delude herself.   
The queen took her hand, held it between her own and guided her back to where she sweetly ached.  
Shadow Weaver's hand rubbed, playfully, brazenly, without a trace of magic for now.   
Angella laughed, it almost made Shadow Weaver laugh too.

Angella took her hands to her mask, to unbind it from her face and place it on the table next to Shadow Weaver's.   
"Please, keep the mask on a while longer."   
Angella looked back at her, caught her licking a finger with her actual tongue. Shadow Weaver almost looked embarrassed. Or was it proud?  
"Until the unmasking at the party." Angella agreed.   
Then a flash of light, Shadow Weaver had re-activated the circle enchantment and placed it at the tip between Angella's labia where it softly lay and contracted, pulsed.  
"You cheat." Angella laughed.  
Shadow Weaver's actual arm curled around her, to hoist her onto the table. 

"We should" Angella whispered. "take this to the bed." She pointed up.   
The room was very high. There was a round gold disc way up, which Shadow Weaver had taken for a chandelier.  
As she was looking up, Angelle kissed the side of her face.   
That was her bed, hanging like a royal nest.   
Tendrils wrapped themselves around her waist again. Shadows grabbing at her pelvis, at whatever peril, Angella let them.  
She embraced her guest, pressing her in a hug.  
"You'd better fill me up again." she hinted.  
"How high can you go?" she asked the woman staring at her. Angella walked away from the hug, she trailed Shadow Weaver with her by the hands to the steps floating in the sky.  
"Or would you prefer to take the stairs?"   
Angella was curious about the shadows.   
She lept into the air, beat her wings, taking the shadows clinging to her legs high up with her.   
Shadow Weaver rose higher from the floor to follow her, her shadows followed her like roots stretched out below and in front of her.  
At first they rose out over the steps, then broke from that path.   
So, she could do more than float.  
"You don't need the steps, do you." Angella teased, flying away.   
She swept down again and caught Shadow Weaver in her arms. She kissed her.   
The shadows played with her shimmering hair. "Or I can carry you." Angella offered.   
As Shadow Weaver's luminiferous lady held her in her arms, the deep darkness crawled up, like tar. She could carry them just as well, and much faster than her shadow were demonstrating now.   
Angella flew off again.   
Decorative trinkets cast beams of light through the room. These shiny things were made from the crystals in the Whispering Woods. Shadow Weaver's shadows silenced their intrusive light. She thought of the crystal Angella sat upon when she fetched her water.  
Her shadows swept around the queen, who evaded them quite skillfully at first.  
"I can catch you if you fall." the queen called down to her.   
So can I, Shadow Weaver's hold on the queen tightened. She saw her pause in the air to catch her breath. Shadow Weaver swirled like a demon to her side.


	6. Chapter 6

The queen tilted back trustingly into the amassing darkness.   
She ceased moving her wings.   
The shadows feasted.

Shadow Weaver beheld this easy acquiescence with a sliver of wonder. She held out her arms for Angella as she appeared around her, taking the queen into her arms.   
Still angling down, the woman looked up at her as though happy to run into her.  
"So... you made it here afterall. You sought to detain me..."  
"Whatever gave you that impression?"  
"Maybe this ... rather intimate magic."  
She leaned her head back, as if she was merely enjoying her morning flight.  
Wisps of smoke struck the decorative crystals above. Their voices trickled a shy laughter.  
Angella turned her gaze at Shadow Weaver's figure.  
"Oh, you have a request?"  
Angella stretched herself languidly in the air. "This is nice."   
Which was an understatement for a touch she wished would never leave her.   
She watched the air teeming with shadows around her.  
Shadow Weaver gathered more forces to please her.   
"You managed to get pretty far up." Shadow Weaver complimented. Angella could say the same.  
Angella hung, listlessly, feeling shadows about her breast, hearing her heartbeat echo back at her.  
"I thought I might, give you a chance ..." The shadows weighed heavier against her, driving tensions out of her body. "Since.. your powers were so eager to crawl back under my clothes as I flew."  
Shadow Weaver swiveled around her. "Just admit you surrendered."   
Angella slowly shook her head. "I decided..." She lost all words again.  
Shadow Weaver crossed her arms. "Do you still think you can pick me up and carry me to bed?"  
"In some spur of rapid longing, yes, undoubtedly," Angella suppressed a moan. "I am fine here, for now." Shadow Weaver simmered with power. "You can fly up to the ceiling very easily, can't you?"  
"Yes." Shadow Weaver replied.  
"And here I thought I was setting you a fun challenge..."  
"You are the challenge." The words were flirty, the tone was...off. Horde people.  
"Hmmm."  
"This is not the time to complain. You are...from Bright Moon but you are not a complete embarassment. Your body is tense but responsive. I will have to make do." Shadow Weaver spoke, floating up and past her, drawing a hand over her reclining figure.  
Angella glared fondly at her and, if she wasn't very mistaken, briefly poked her tongue out at her.  
Then let herself melt back into the shadows. Oh this was an embrace she did not soon want to wake up from.

She felt Shadow Weaver's hand behind her neck, she felt her hair around her ankles, she felt her raw tongue against her side, she was kissing her constantly and not at all.   
Shadow Weaver felt a nudge against her shades. She closed herself around it.   
Powerful.   
The queen's hyacinth eyes caught hers.   
Could she feel a pinch when Shadow Weaver touched this?   
Would she wring in discomfort if she destroyed it? Or not notice its loss at all?  
Life.  
Shadow Weaver eased her grip. She still felt its glow.   
It resounded through her.   
She ceased her shadows from taking it.  
She hungered for it. To have her demons have it. One lick from them would drain it like a magic stone.  
She revelled in power.  
Still she would not let herself consider taking-eating this, surely her soul was not yet that deprived.   
This was not her decision to make.  
She had a tastier matter on her hands.  
How far could she corrupt the girl before her? For her own good... How far could she have desire erode her being?  
Shadow Weaver had not stopped her magic from stroking the queen. Angella had not noticed something other than pleasing her had claimed Shadow Weaver's rapt attention.   
"Shh hold still." She stroked through her Angella's bright hairfall. She saw in her face, despite the mask, she was regarding her, and the entire world around her, in that particular lovely hue that intimate touch brought to its wearer, over taking all else.   
In that moment Shadow Weaver never wanted to extricate herself, her soul from hers. Shadow Weaver kissed her. Letting her face become more tangable, more visible than anything else going on. She wanted her to focus on what she said next.  
The magical morsel ... How does one begin to enquire...  
Well obviously, by just saying it... but without being blunt.  
There is the rub.  
"This marriage you mentioned..."  
"In order for this short alliance of ours to hold," Angella took a breath, her eyes pleading for kisses. "I believe it best we don't dabble back into politics..." This time it was Angella's tone that did not match her words, but it was clear she was not to be fooled by what she took to be some cunningly timed enemy-interrogation.  
Shadow Weaver quite agreed on that. This burning white point where their lives intersected, "We should cherish this."  
She smiled at her and kissed her approvingly.  
She swiftly devised a way not to harm the life that her demonic spirit would otherwise hungrily take, in love.   
Shadow Weaver reached in further, localised the thing, her fingers cast an onslought of protective enchantments over it to keep any piercing dark powers from touching it. It would not be in danger.  
Next she added some circles in and over Angella to amplify her enjoyment of their encounter.  
She tossed the matter aside in her mind.

The girl shone. It was beautiful.   
She relaxed in Shadow Weaver's embrace.  
Angella released two content sighs, deep, calm and silent, savouring this moment. She would continue to breathe like this, but was cut off by herself when she wanted to take another breath. She tipped her head back instead, her body supply stretched out, appearing to elongate. A crescent in the sky in a graceful unexpected climax.

This was perhaps the most beautiful force Shadow Weaver had yet been able to summon by combining her magic powers with a willing lover.   
She had to see this again, more of this, also if it was different, which it would be. She loved this.  
"The moons of fate have aligned against you" she smiled at Angella and whispered. "for I like you."

And with the touch of a finger she had her powers speed through the young queen with the sole purpose of making her revisit this state at once.

Something lashed up in Angella like a whip, keeping her entire spine hostage, throwing her up high, it wrapped around her body, a dark snake of shadow, had her toes curling, she cried out in liberation.  
Shadow Weaver held her. The tall girl had gone limp. Her wings lifted her slightly. 

"When you do that, you tell me first. You should warn people. You are lucky I am amenable to you or I may not have enjoyed that."  
Amenable, that made Shadow Weaver grin.  
"Are you warning me about the peace treaty? I made a promise," Shadow Weaver said, "this was the mild version of what I had in mind." She assured her. It was. Then she started babbling from joy. "I held back. I swear. And if you want, of course I will tell you when I wish to do this particular thing again. That was the entrée, it was meant to be enjoyable."   
Angella wasn't saying that it wasn't but ...  
"You are ruthless." Angella said.  
"Only in combat and training." Shadow Weaver said with the air of a joke. Not as Horde-brainwashed as she was pretending to be.  
"This is not a war. What we do here now should not be something..."  
"Don't you like testing your limits?"  
Shadow Weaver twirled a lock of Angella's hair around her shadow, smiling defiantly in her face before kissing her.  
"It should be something beautiful and good, for the soul." Angella quickly added, then grabbed her for more kisses.

The queen gave her a sly look. She observed the wisps that would not stop touching her. This was her lover being happy. Shadow Weaver wanted to keep holding her, if just with little shadow touches.   
"Can you do that to yourself? Reach inside yourself like that? "  
"Of course."  
"Show me, you owe me that now."

Shadow Weaver rose up and flopped herself down in the bed.  
Angella flew up there. She beheld the shadows seething in her bed.  
Her room was darkened, darker than usual, although ... it was getting late.   
The darkness. Her.   
Should she be surprised her guest was upon the bed and not floating above it?  
Angella stroked the woman's hair, kneeling down from flight beside her.   
There was an enthusiastic cheering outside. The unmasking hour was already here and she was supposed to be there.  
"Put your hands here and here." Shadow Weaver said, guiding Angella's touch to hold her right below the chest and somewhere within the whispy netherspheres of her shadows.  
Angella slowly extracted her hands from Shadow Weaver's, to take off her mask. She put her mask to the side of the bed. She had an ulterior motive to removing it. It had not gotten much in the way while kissing and swirling, she did not want it to get damaged when eating her out. She very much wanted to eat this woman out. With this fantasy in mind, Angella kissed her again.  
The shadow woman pressed her face to hers, she did not, want to, let go of the kiss.  
Angella looked back at her as with new eyes, set free from her white mask. When she tried to replace her hands, she observed the cracks in her face and in the eyes, she tried not to make the focus of her gaze obvious. Her hands slipped. On the chest and one, she hesitated, below, between the folds of her dress.  
Shadow Weaver waved away what Angella first thought to be the fabric of her skirts, or something less substantial than that, more shadows.  
The shadows themselves guided her hand for her between those folds, or was it Shadow Weaver's own hand directing her afterall, and placed her hand where it should be. Her fingers were gripped by shades, surrounded, in a warm and strange embrace, enclosed.   
Shadow Weaver's powers held her. They would not let her move her hand away. Angella attempted to twist her wrist, she moved her fingers against the thick warmth, curled her fingers and saw the lady respond with a faint twitch and a look of tenderness.   
She was between hér folds? Already inside of her?   
The place she had wanted to approach and discover herself.  
She could not touch back to check. Her other hand was kept in place upon her chest by a weird sense of obligation.  
Angella was daunted by the intimacy.   
She was not certain if the lady could trust her as readily as she had. The Horde girl had been frank about her powers, showing them freely to her, leaving no doubt that she was used to displaying them. Angella had, wisely perhaps, not spoken a word about her own.  
"Don't be afraid." Shadow Weaver said, seeing her confusion. "It is not going to hurt you."   
Without any further ado, she gathered her powers, held her face up, and pulled an imposing amount of magic through herself.  
What dark tendril had been holding Angella's hand, skitted onto her arm and darkness wrapped around her completely.  
But she felt the current flash within and through Shadow Weaver. How her body contorted, her back moved as if to snap itself. In the pitch dark muscle, or what she assumed was muscle, clenched her fingers repeatedly.  
This was definitely not the mild version.  
This was a harsh way of extracting power from herself.  
And this while the sorceress could wield her shadows so beautifully for pleasure.  
She was indeed quite ruthless.  
Did she not believe in foreplay? Angella felt bereft.

The rush ebbed away, the darkness stayed, her hand was released and Angella sweetly, slowly and without magic began to stroke her guest both to entertain herself and as to provide some balm for her. First it felt like she was just attempting to caress oddly unyielding air. The shadows needed some convincing. After a while she was starting to feel more and more like flesh. Whenever Angella drew up the substance that coated her fingers to her entrance, shadow spirits would lick it clean again. She couldn't see this, but she felt it.   
Shadow Weaver stirred as to sit up.  
"Stay." Angella commanded as she rocked her fingers in her, doing her very best to treat the ghostliness to her body, the odd feel of her fluids and the voracious shadows as normal and overcome it.   
She became wetter, the textures encircling Angella's fingers became more malleable. This felt like recognisable terrain.  
Shadow Weaver felt the queen's breath upon her shadows, then closer, upon her flesh. The cushioned wet feel of a mouth and tongue, most definitely hungry for her.  
Entreating, endearingly purposeful.  
She would let the bird peck her clean.  
She was slightly amazed that a Bright Moon girl would do this for her of her own accord. None of her other lovers objected to it, when she suggests this to them with a sweeping gesture but they rarely volunteered or instigated. With her. They were quite, Horde rule-breakingly enthusiastic with each other.  
Her shadows kept them on edge. Her mininistrations had the same feeling to them as her wrath, their punishments, their suffering.   
To think...to surpass the obedient recruit she had but to look in enemy ranks for any strongwilled waywards winged woman.


	7. Chapter 7

Whether she was caressing her soothe her down or to build up tension, it did not matter, as long as it felt beautiful to them both.

Her legs were revealed to sight, to touch. Maybe they did not just appear, maybe they'd been there all along, covered in heavy shadows. Angella did not know.  
What mattered was that she was losing track of place, of all history before this moment. Their caresses excluded them from the outside world. Her own existence of hands and mouth and the existence of this grey beauty was all she had to focus on. She immersed herself into what she loved.  
She could do this for ages. She actually had ages to live.   
They were cut off quite literally too because of these shadows. 

Angella reached for where she thought to feel Shadow Weaver's dress bunched up around the waist, her clothese were not there anymore. She felt the rough patches on her skin instead. The scars on her body and the dark tendrils only lightly draped over it now, as a few stray snakes on the move, some smooth, some rough to touch, like Shadow Weaver herself.  
Angella looked up, a touch of shadow encouraged her to.  
Perhaps it was her own pearly bright shine coming out too strong, perhaps it was Shadow Weaver's will, but she could see her entirely, within the deep lake of darkness pooling around them.  
The woman with glowing eyes was looking back intently at her face.

A wailing, a whimpering arose but not from Shadow Weaver's mouth.   
Angella bravely continued. She would not leave her yearning.  
Shadow Weaver would involuntarily rise up against her and softly press herself more against her. The darkness deepened still around them.   
Queen Angella remained undettered by the shadows tangling, entangling, interweaving, over her the entire time she was busy. They would urge her on, by actually distracting her quite a lot, but Angella was dedicated, she composed herself and continued.   
She could sense just as well without the jubelating shadows in the air how blissful Shadow Weaver felt.

Angella lowered her face, or raised it, again everything moved. It no longer felt as if Shadow Weaver was laying down. It was as if she had rotated them and Shadow Weaver was standing, and also maybe not. A slant hovering over the bed?

The shadows caressed her more affectionately than before. Had their intent, their feelings, towards her changed? They were growing accostumed to her.   
"It is not the champagne." Shadow Weaver confided, to put her worry about disorientation at ease.   
Angella leaned over. "It is okay." she muttered and kissed her too lovingly to whitstand.  
Shadow Weaver tasted herself, the crispy tingling of her own demonic, viscous fluids.  
She kissed her angel deeply back.  
Her green eyes appeared huge in wonder. She had not expected this sweet care. "Thank you." Shadow Weaver mouthed, only, in the dark.  
A touch of Angella's knuckles rested high upon Shadow Weaver's cheek. 

Shadows rippled the room. Her hips jumped up, in a swirl of shadows Shadow Weaver's legs lifted up around Angella. Her legs carefully regained a solid state. Angella felt the legs materialise between her wings, the ankles hanging, resting, pressing her heels, against of her back.   
Angella licked her out again. She was not discouraged by the black squelchy glistening goo that drifted from her.   
Shadow Weaver's body struggled and did not struggle at the same time. Angella lifted her to her mouth, keeping her in a confident hold.  
Her being shuddered and her shadows too, disturbing the gems trailing down the ceiling once more.   
Shadow Weaver saw her legs continue to shudder for a long while as she came, ironically as one possessed.   
What she experienced was disjointing. Different flows of herself were elapsing in on each other. She wrapped her thighs strongly around Angella, her hips jerked forward, she cried out in a gasp. 

She almost did not register the devious whisper that sounded a while later.   
"Am I winning?" asked Angella with an endearing glint in her eyes. "Our political discussion?"  
Shadow Weaver looked up, she saw her legs sprawled out on the bed and Angella was sitting nicely between them. Her lover moved her hand through the faint ripples of darkness still adorning the air or leaking out into it.  
"I was" Shadow Weaver began. "told this was a moment of peace, not a fight."  
Angella smiled at her, as if Shadow Weaver finally understood her.  
As if they both were not just having fun.  
"Besides, this kind of meeting is called a tryst."  
Angella shook her head. "Then we should have planned it first."  
"The ball was planned and so was my visit, though clearly you failed to be informed of that."  
Letters go lost in the woods. Bright Moon does not care about letters.  
"Well, then this must have been inescapable." Angella smiled.

She trailed an elusive finger down Shadow Weaver's stomach, down to her slit, she dredged up another shadow from there, urging it out of her, far too deftly. Shadow Weaver shook, briefly. Angella let the shadow go.   
This sprighty young woman, intuinitely knowledgeable young woman, powerful in her own way,  
how high can you fly? Shadow Weaver wondered.   
How high can I make you...?

The dark overtook them again.   
Shadow Weaver concealed herself with celebrating shadows.   
"You rarely hide your powers, do you?" Angella squinted at her in the dark. But you hide yourself. "Would you say your powers are common among the Horde?  
Are there many sorcerers there?"  
"Now who is prying?"  
Shadow Weaver cupped Angella's face affectionately.  
"I count myself fortunate that you are only a representative. Right?" She did not sound the least bit deluded. "And not someone who is a real danger to us."  
"Yes," Shadow Weaver spoke quite breathlessly. "and you, my lovely."

What about you her? She had seen so little yet of her reticent angel.  
And yet, for a moment she entertained thoughts of entertwining their sorceries furthers.   
She broke these thoughts.   
Her powers held Angella's waist snug, rippled over her torso, pulled her up.   
"We can do better than a bed." Shadow Weaver said, and flung Angella back into the air.  
Time to unleash her powers on her and spoil her rotten.

What was supposed to have been a night basking in enmity, stiffling and perhaps passionate, had haplessly rendered itself into something avidly loving. There was precious little true adversity between them in this game.   
Taunts, guile and farces had slipped loose like their masks and given them this fugitive night.   
Here she was, slavering over an enemy,   
rapacious to know her.

As the pervading darkness assailed her, Angela flew back to pull Shadow Weaver out of the bed. In such haste that shadow Weaver lost her footing and Angella did carry her higher.   
Shadow Weaver swiveled to face her.  
Angella's touch shone, a glittery hand was placed upon her cheek to look at her face and the evil within.  
The room brightened so quickly, it put spots in Shadow Weaver's sight.   
Shadow Weaver turned Angella, putting her back to her. She was going to eclips this light, pull her shadows over her.  
She had lured her in her tangle of night and there she would stay.   
Her raspy touch, as if she wore her scars in her fingertips, made Angella's world tilt again.The angel leaned forward as to fall, the shadows stopped and held her. 

The sound of crystals in the perpetual dark.  
She noticed Shadow Weaver wade through her own darkness again. This certainly preceded pleasure.   
"You cheat a lot." Angella gasped and whined for breath.  
"Yes, keep breathing." Shadow Weaver's voice encouraged her in her ear, feeling and sounding unbearably near and yet the lapping at her thighs simultaneously convinced her that she was there. She could feel the wetness of her tongue. As if to prove herself at being present in more places than one Shadow Weaver kissed her with that, or another, tongue. Angella came into her, not quite knowing what did it or which way was up.  
It were the little sounds Shadow Weaver loved. She cooed over the moon girl, cherished her with minimal effort and a steady supply of power, to bring out those sounds again.  
Freely Angella lay cushioned in her avaricious embrace.   
The queen was very powerful in this. Much more than Shadow Weaver had expected from her. 

Powers to whipe out an army, lavished on her in the romantic dark.  
Shadow Weaver lay back on the bed, having given up her tactics from up close to orchestrate from a distance. 

Not everyone experienced her magic and its induced sensations as a nice thing. But then Angella did not know Shadow Weaver outside of this context, Shadow Weaver reminded herself again, she was not used to experience the feel of her as a bad sign.   
Her soldiers were scared to experience her shadows. Having nothing tangible to hold onto would sent them in a panic. They believed they would suffocate. Angella was used to being on herself in the air and to the shifts in air pressure that influenced her breathing. She trusted her wings to fall back on. Her light.

The air tasted of her. All around her tasted of her, Angella breathed her. It was... being swallowed, without any of the discomforts. She could move unhindered.   
There was only the light air upholding her.  
Not liquid, not shadow, or any substance she could recognise filled her without forcing her to, stretched itself within her, unbruisingly.   
"Hold." Shadow Weaver instructed.   
Again, she never wanted to be without that touch, a vain wish.  
Shadow Weaver applied an unreal pressure, she felt fingers within it, again not just fingers. Its heaviness had her contract before she knew it.

Peace treaty undoubtedly signed and respected, Shadow Weaver thought. Being soft with her, check, have her submit and yet not overstep her comfort boundaries, check.   
Angella shone that much brighter. Shadow Weaver had her float before her, a long shadow arm coiled her past her, bringing her over in an arc.  
Angella had transformed at her magic's touch, and not disitegrated to dust as some plants would. 

Shadow Weaver swerved around, she presided over her handiwork.   
This moon cast into her night sky.  
Her passion poised into webs, which fed the angel waves of magic, more and more.   
Her bright girl offered herself up so willingly, she would the rebellion were so easy to overtake. Her moon emitted a relaxed soft mewing sound.   
Shadow Weaver held a hand over her neck, not to suffocate her.  
"We are almost there." sounded Shadow Weaver's omnious whisper.  
Angella glanced at her, a shrewd look and a rational voice. "Is it just you or does all the Horde talk like that?"  
"Like what, my sweet rebel-fling?"  
There was a rather cute huff.  
"A tad, a touch, completely condescending."  
Shadow Weaver sent another wave of magic ripping through her, with a simple beckoning gesture from a distance.   
She felt Angella tighten in her shadows, not sure who or what to cry out to.  
Shadow Weaver hovered close, sampling some pretty convulsions.   
She traced the fanned out wings.   
With a covetous smile she leaned into Angella's pitched breaths, admonished extra warmth to settle between her legs, deployed her own mouth there.  
Her wings swept down, further. Hopelessly?   
"You are in distress. Should I save you?" Shadow Weaver's voice was a slow purr.  
Angella grasped above her. Shadow Weaver provided her hand to hold, then materialised further from that hand.   
Shadow Weaver started kissing her again. The woman was incredibly pliant to her touch.  
She knew every part of Angella without even fully having taken her clothes off.   
How she enjoyed that silvery white glow of hers. 

She should keep her on that high forever, or at least until her powers ran low, she was draining her connection to the Black Garnet, but at least she was putting its magic to good use.  
"My maiden in distress." She named the picture in a threatening whisper.  
When the image Shadow Weaver was looking at was in fact undoubtably that of the Maiden Victorious.

Angella lighted up the room with her soft rays.   
Shadow Weaver left her drifting, bent artistically, in gorgeous literal afterglow.

She hung still, extinguished, in the air suspended from time itself.   
She continued to be the gleaming moon in the night sky Shadow Weaver had created and Shadow Weaver could not stop watching her.  
Could their magic instigate the entire moonrise on the planet? It seemed a possiblity.  
She let her shadowy touches ebb away.  
Out of her victim.

"Shadow Lady?" Angella asked from above.  
What to call you? Lady of the Horde? She did not like the word Horde.  
Shadow Weaver looked up at her from the bed. Angella, slowly awaking from the mist, beautifully.  
"Messenger girl?" Angella asked in a small contented lingering groan, surprising herself.

"I am here." Shadow Weaver whispered, her voice by her side. She slowly let her lover lower.  
Her shadows kissed over her skin.

Shadow Weaver reined in her shadows.   
Angella drifted back down as a lumnescent feather, and just as softly, onto the bed next to Shadow Weaver.   
Angella looked over to her, leaning in close in the dark to see her better. She couldn't make out her face. Miss 'the dark is me', can you get some of you out of the air?  
Another veil to be lifted, for kisses.  
She could vaguely make out were she had put her white mask to the side of her round bed.

Angella smiled at her as if they had a secret together, sleepily and cunning.   
"So this this what it feels like, to have conquered the whole of Etheria." Shadow Weaver said, languidly.  
"No, this is how it feels like to save it."  
Shadow Weaver smiled at her. "That is a dream long gone." Shadow Weaver said and kissed her.

Angella felt happy and at peace, Shadow Weaver wanted in on that secret of hers, so that the secret could last.   
Shadow Weaver's rough fingertips upon her face, intimate.   
Shadow Weaver crawled back into her lap, on top of her.  
She continued kissing, Angella was becoming slow in her responses.   
"Are all Horde women this hungry?"  
"Almost." Shadow Weaver said, licking her lips and kissing her again.   
She enjoyed how Angella was looking up at her. At all of her body. "In my experience they are either too awkward or too pushy. If you find one you like being with, you should stick to it, her." She corrected quickly.  
"You are not being very subtle in your advice."  
Shadow Weaver laughed.   
"You are delicious." She smiled at Angella.  
"I can hardly see you." Angella whispered.  
She rested her hand on her cheek, her hand lit up. "There you are." Angella spoke, drawing her close for more kisses.  
No matter how much Angella played with her hair or how far the woman bent over, the hair would always fall up. Angella had noticed it became more lively when she made her laugh. She wondered, caressing her hair, if she could say, if she could make her understand, without saying it,   
"I like you too."  
said it afterall.   
A tress of hair swept to her face, carressing her in return.

Angella tried to keep a hold of those lumnescent bright eyes, but she couldn't keep her own eyes open inbetween kisses anymore.  
She kept kissing, feeling Shadow Weaver grow sleepy too, she noticed it in her lips. Felt her grow sleepy and settle against her.   
They lay turned to each other, to kiss a while longer, and held each other, their arms over the other.  
Her hand in the floating hair.   
Fulfilment and sleep crept over Shadow Weaver too.   
They flew to sleep together.


	8. Chapter 8

Shadow Weaver woke up in a bed with feathers in it.  
She saw Angella without her white mask, this felt like the first proper look she had of her face. Those pale purple eyes. She did look like a queen. She probably had all along. Shadow Weaver had just not wanted to believe it.  
They looked at each other, their faces bare.   
Her lover in tumbled sheets, one wing swept down outside the bed.  
"Good morning, Feathers."  
Shadow Weaver smirked.  
Her shadows were calm, her face would be perfectly visible. She almost pulled up the sheets to hide it but an incandescent feather drew over her face, a wing stroked her cheek, as if drawing a new dawn over it.  
"Good morning, you. We didn't get to see much of the ball last night." said Angella, or discuss the war, but that mattered little in this setting. Angella slowly leaned over her. "I believe it is my turn." the light woman said and laughed. Shadow Weaver looked at her, through her own hair, hiding afterall.  
The queen tentatively draped herself over her. She waved the floating hair away from her face. She was going to kiss her and love her all morning. She was eager to taste her on her tongue again.   
Her intended was still on a week long diplomatic mission with the princesss and princes, not that this was information she could safely share with someone from the Horde. She knew Micah had a crush on one of the princes.

"We missed third moonrise." Shadow Weaver had slept all night.  
"Adora, she'll need feeding." Shadow Weaver sprang up, she took her dress from where she had left if hanging on the side of the bed.  
"What?"  
"My children. I am in charge of the children."  
"Aww."  
"Don't look at me like that is adorable."  
Shadow Weaver slid down the stairs, sparing her magic.  
"You are adorable." the woman whispered from the bed.  
Shadow Weaver took some food from the table, inspected the drink options. Champagne, wine, vodka. Yes, vodka.   
"I can send for morning tea."  
This went unheard. In her mind Shadow Weaver was already making confident excuses to Lord Hordak. He wouldn't kill her, of course. He usually gave her free rein. She did need something to show for her actions.  
It pained Shadow Weaver to leave this. She could not bring herself to look back on Angella.   
Her enemy, only the Horde's enemy in fact, had called her adorable. "I could have ended your dynasty." she confided darkly. Shadow Weaver picked up her mask, to scrape her life back on. "I could have killed you and leave your stone unclaimed. You are merely lucky." Easy, she could have done this any good day. "I could have taken the Moon Stone instead of wasting my powers on you."  
"Was that your plan?" Angella whispered, her voice suddenly small. She was alarmed that her new lover deemed it suddenly necessary to admit to not just being an emissary.  
"No, it was not."  
"You did think about it?"  
Shadow Weaver did not answer.  
"As we kissed?"  
"Not then." She set down her emptied glass. "You are pregnant, my queen. There is a twinkle in your guts. I could have extinguished the trifle with the softest squeeze. But I am not evil."  
She certainly sounded malicious.   
"You can go now." Angella turned away in the bed. She no longer wanted to be around one who spoke like this, thought like this. Strongly vindictive. Clearly hurt in a way that would benefit the Horde. Someone high up within their ranks. She could not have chosen any worse. She wanted to go back to pretending.   
A shadow pulled tight, stretched out over her and her bed, pressed down on the blanket, to keep her under it so she could not move. She was scared, too scared.

Shadow Weaver was still there.  
She heard something soft, nearby.  
Shadow Weaver sat silently at the edge of the bed. Holding her breakfast of last night's festive leftovers but not eating it.  
Angella saw no reason to her being this close.  
Shadow Weaver thought of the first time she held Adora. She wanted Angella to have that too. That love for a crumb of great power and life and possibilities.

"I can remove it if you want." she wispered. Her feet dangled over the edge, her legs open, her hands were folded between them. A rueful look on her face.   
"No, I want it. It is my future husband's. My best friend." They had been fighting together for years, they led the Rebellion together.  
Shadow Weaver's heart plummeted. Most unreasonably.  
Her shadows instantly released the blanket, and the queen. She turned her mask over in her hands.   
"I woulnd't cheat on him."  
"You just did." Shadow Weaver leaned over to her and kissed her. Queen Angella accepted.  
She felt happy to be kissed by her.  
Shadow Weaver's hand closed over feathers on the bed. Testified witnesses of their loving teamwork.  
She held her face close to Angella's, searching, kissing.   
"Enjoy your wedding."  
She drew her hand through the sparkling hair, already nostalgic.  
"We should do this again, my correspondance partner." the queen whispered, sounding unsure.   
Shadow Weaver drifted down again.  
"I don't think that is possible."  
A guard pounded at the door. "Queen Angella, queen Angella, queen Angella!" Time for Angella to get up and commence the queen's duties.  
Angella pulled a robe about herself.

"A name!" Angella cried. "A name, or I will write the Horde and demand they deliver the pretty scarred woman to me."  
"Now, now, dear queen, we did not agree to that."

"Please." Angella floated down. She held Shadow Weaver's scarf, which the sorceress had almost forgotten in the bed. She returned it to her, she lay it round her lover's neck. She helped her wind it around.  
She was fully Horde-dressed. She was holding her mask in her hands, a shield.  
"Please." Angella repeated.

Shadow Weaver thought of what Adora called her. "Shiver." she whispered. Angella nodded, not repeating the name. A secret between them.  
She kissed Angella goodbye, again, wrapping her to her.   
Shadow Weaver's caress was chilling and warm and lovely.  
Angella had so hoped for continued morning snuggles.

Queen Angella ignored the many urgent voices outside.  
The woman disappeared into nothing, disintegrated, away with the shadows. 

Her fantasies of "smuggling the secret lover out" ended there.   
To leave her a veil of her kisses, in the room with her kisses and Angella was left without.   
Angella took the white veil from the table. So much better suited for kissing than a mask. Its purpose already served and gone. Perhaps she would ask Micah to draw a spell over it and change its colour to black. As a memento. Or she could keep it the same glistening white that had showed shadowy skin underneath to a smokey ghostly effect. Perhaps she should not miss her so soon.   
She was pregnant.  
A baby among the Rebellion. She was happy. She wanted to cry.  
She had so hoped to find a glimmer of good in the Horde.


	9. Chapter 9

As she progressed through the woods Shadow Weaver felt for the first time the leash put on her by the Horde, to the Black Garnet. Her beacon of power. This day would serve her as a strong reminder of why she generally elected not to leave the Fright Zone.  
Her powers had run out. She did not have enough left to travel all the way to the FrightZone. She ended up having to walk a great part of the journey through the Whispering Woods and its crystal forests.   
The rest of her day passed in a forgetable manner. She returned to her Horde duties.   
She kept the night before in her mind as a treasured, oblique occurance. 

She passed a mirror, and even though she had her mask on, she saw the happiness fall from her face. 

To Lord Hordak Shadow Weaver pretended the Woods had kept her hostage all night after fruitless negotiations with a meaningless representative of Bright Moon.   
She claimed the queendom, as it was, was ripe for the taking.

She blamed her delay on the magic crystals and errant energies of the Whispering Woods set on throwing her off. While the lingering rays of the moons were positioned just so to obscure her path from being visible before her. She made her explanation nicely sorcery-technical.   
The Woods had increased in strength and danger. There was no refuting that.   
She had used her walk in the woods to set up a ready-to-present-plan to train their soldiers more efficiently against any ruses the Woods may throw onto them.  
She made an excellent case.   
Hordak did not believe her entirely, but agreed they should take better care before sending more troops into those Woods and put her in charge of devising a special training for the new recruits.

It was an uneventful day. At the end of it, she took Adora in her arms as she lay down to sleep. She crooned over her, admiring her, drowsily playing with her in her arms. It happened more often that she fell asleep while cradling Adora. This time, only Adora managed to sleep. Shadow Weaver kept toying with her instead of trying to sleep.  
After a while the cat joined them, she sprang up at Shadow Weaver's feet, she pushed her claws to the tendrils of her skirt, affectionately clawing at the fabric. Then curled up to sleep against her feet.  
Shadow Weaver ignored it.   
She took a feather from her pocket and twirled it lightheartedly between her fingers. She did not give the feather up for play to either of the children.   
Later she retrieved more feathers from her pocket and lay them out on her desk, next to the forgotten, Adora-cherished plum pit. For safe keeping.  
She observed them. These feathers, childlike treasures, soft, translucent. No pen feathers. She should have taken one of those to craft an elegant pen for her war correspondance to the queen. Yet the softness of these few feathers was exactly what she wanted.

She had by all means intended to betray her, their 'one night trust', and use what knowledge she had gained on Bright Moon against her, for the good of the Horde, regardless of how sweet and pretty and willing their queen was and regardless of how her touch and affections still delighted her.  
She didn't. Mystified even herself.

She did not even go after 'the husband', who should have been an easy enough target but he turned out to be Micah. Once she learned this, she was saddled up with the inappropriate feeling of wanting to keep them both safe.   
For ten years she stalled, more than ten years. She hoped not to meet her confidante again. She hoped the queen would not request her, as threatened. 

Shadow Weaver would be happy and smug about her night with the queen forever.   
The queen had liked this face. In her satisfied morning state she had been led astry by her happiness to think she was pretty. Endorphines talking.  
Best to stay away from Bight Moon in person from now on. She had a weakness there and her weakness knew her face.  
No use to spy on the realm's married queen. She still did.  
Back during her significant walk in the woods, she did already plan on making their night a frequent occurance. Imagine a Bright Moon girl wanting her for more than a night.   
Madness.

For a decade Shadow Weaver, under no promise, hampered the Horde's already slow conquest of Bright Moon. It was not intentional.  
But she would have to warn Adora against this. The danger of distractions. 

Shadow Weaver was aware that the cause of their delay lay inside herself.  
There were more meaningful, bountiful, easier places to seize than Bright Moon and the Whispering Woods were still unpredictable, powerful, eruptive, moodily, often acted up, costing them precious recruits. She saw to it that the recruits were pushed into many extra years of training.   
The Rebellion was a pain in the foot.

Her celestial delicacy would return to her once they overthrew Bright Moon.  
The rebellion had little resistance to spare. It would not take the Horde much time or effort. 

The queen's flow of pink-ink-letters stopped long ago, a few years after their one-night affair. Not one of those had contained an indicator to their night together. If Hordak had intercepted one that had...well... he would have seen fit to exploit her personal connection with the queen, Shadow Weaver was not certain she could have handled being used as bait.

Then came She-ra and her own capture.

\------  
"Your majesty! There is a... disturbance from the Fright Zone! She appeared here within the palace." Due to the hour the guards saw fit to wake her, this had to be something very bad. On the other hand, they had a reputation of waking her for near no-reasons. "An evil spirit entered the castle, Adora's bedchamber, she pulled a knife on her, she... passed out."  
"Adora?" Angella asked, concerned for her newly adopted ward.  
"No, with your permission, Adora says it's her... mother... Shadow Weaver."   
She knew Adora's mom was not good news.

Why had she not been told this name before?  
"Shiver..."  
She sped to the young She-ra's quarters.  
When queen Angella inquired about her health, the brave girl only nodded, dutifully, honestly. 

Two guards were holding up a figure, lifting her under the shoulders, her red dress trailed in the air below her. The angry mask.  
"I know you." Queen Angella smiled.   
Or was this an outfit that got passed down in the Horde, a standard sorcerer uniform?   
"It is you?" Angella asked and without delay she removed the mask.   
Split eyes looked up wearily and annoyed at her. 

"Queen Angella?" her guest answered. A weak tremor passed through the sorceress.  
Angella loved hearing her name on these lips for a first time.  
"I thought you were taller." The queen was already holding her, relieving an objecting guard from her duty. "You are Shadow Weaver?"  
"Yes."  
Angella brought her face close to her and placed a small kiss to her lips. "We'll fix you up. Oh, will you dine with me?"  
"Who..." Angella's head of security spoke up.   
The other guard supporting Shadow Weaver cringed at Angella touching the prisoner as a lost love.   
"I must object." The general continued.  
Angella shook her head.  
"Feathers, don't..." Shadow Weaver called her.   
Angella put her arm around her side, taking the task of supporting her guest entirely upon herself. Shadow Weaver flinched in pain.  
"She is a friend." Angella volunteered.  
Adora was standing to the side, silent, as she was taught, looking at Shadow Weaver. Her unmasked mother perplexed and unable to look back at her.  
"We .. had a night together once." Angella said as if this explained everything and should pit all concerns to rest.  
Shadow Weaver's eyes went wide but the queen only smiled at her. 

Queen Angella had told her husband, of course, of her night at the ball, with a messenger. He knew she had hope to receive a letter from her one day. He had watched her check the mail hopefully.   
He had not known the letter was to come from the Horde. He did not concern himself with Horde letters. He said he hated the handwriting they came in.

She had continued to write to the Horde. She would write about any complaint she could for over a year. Sadly she had a lot of topics and tragedies to pick from.   
None of her requests, big or small, were taken into account by the Horde. The war went on.  
Once when she signed her name she drew a little sketch of her white mask next to it.   
This was when she knew she should not send any more letters. This was where it went too far. After a couple of years, she told herself to stop.  
She had liked sending them too much, this could not go on. Besides, it would endanger her girl if Hordak found out she held affections within the Horde. She did not want to be responsible for her demise. She dared to presume people did not last long in the Horde. She wondered how long their not-quite-messengers usually lasted. 

The queen kept looking at her face, thinking back on letters.  
"You have returned." The queen hugged her. As if she was proud of her for finally having picked up the courage to leave the Horde. As if she thought of her as more than a one night stand.  
Angella tried to escort Shadow Weaver out of the room.

It was not that no one dared argue the queen's decision, it was that no one was felt like this moment was real.   
Angella noticed their wonder.  
"It was years ago. She was here to discuss a peace treaty, she called it that but she meant an immediate surrender, but that was not possible." Angella leaned in to Shadow Weaver's ear and whispered: "She was rough about the edges when placed in an intimate setting but I jotted that down to the Horde." Then looked up to proclaim: "She even sent me a love letter afterwards."  
"I did not send you a love letter."  
"No, you requested to visit me at least one night every year.  
I seem to remember your letter spoke very fondly of me and in great flowery detail about our night and it mentioned you were drinking wine as you wrote it. There was not a scary word in it.  
Rather funnily, it looked exactly like any other Horde letter and almost landed up in a war meeting."  
There had been no addressal, no title, no name on it, as if the letter disliked to impose or was in denial about the concept 'queen Angella'. It did call her "my Bright Moon girl" further down the text. It wasn't signed either. 

Shadow Weaver looked ashamed. She had rather hoped, presumed, the Woods had swallowed that encriminating piece of writing.   
Any such letters would have cost her position in the Horde, or worse.  
Yet she had thought it worth it, for once a year, for however long it lasted.

"You did not exactly request, did you? No, that is not the word for it. Stated?" Angella paused. "I had the impression you were going to show up anyway. Whether I asked you to or not. I accepted."  
"You accepted?!" Shadow Weaver's voice sounded rough.  
Shadow Weaver cursed the Wispering Woods for waylaying messages.

"Why, yes. I expected you to manifest from the shadows of my bedroom almost every night. Sometimes in delight, sometimes in fear, I admit, for having let myself in with the enemy. I did get a kick out of it, did you?"  
Shadow Weaver looked at her in utter confusion. "But entangling with an enemy must have meant far worse disgrace for you if you were found out? Let's not dwell on that. You are finally here.

Now She-ra, our hero of the Rebellion, she is your daughter..?" Angella tilted her head, suddenly stern. "And you have defected, yes?" Queen Angella's eyes narrowed dangerously.  
"Yes." Shadow Weaver answered hurriedly, to see Angella smile again. 

\-----  
The End


End file.
